And You Will Never, Ever Know
by TomatoBomb
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Sparky oneshot, AU postep for 1x10 The Storm.


Spoilers: SGA 1x10 "The Storm"  
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir (Sparky)  
Warning: Character death  
Summary: "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

**AND YOU WILL NEVER, EVER KNOW  
**by Mickie (sourfall); 06.04.16

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He ran down the dim, grey corridor as fast as he could. His legs seemed heavy, tired of running, but his feet pounded on none the wiser. He could not hear himself breathing but his lungs burned, telling him that they were just about fed up. He could not stop and think about the warnings his body gave, not now. He had to continue and so he did. He began passing other people walking by (they did not see the need to hurry). The dull chatter in the hallway faded into the background as they noticed the man running wildly past them. Some of the staff he recognized when they looked up to find their Commanding Officer hurtling down the hallway past them. He didn't really care who all the people there were at the moment, he only cared that they weren't her.

"Sheppard, don't!" came Rodney McKay's frantic plea as John approached at full speed. As John brushed past him, still running, Rodney knew his cry had fallen on deaf ears; John Sheppard was too far away in his own grief. McKay watched as John disappeared down the corridor and then watched a moment longer before he turned away and once again allowed the medical staff to guide him the rest of the way to the infirmary. He knew they all must have been worried; his arm was supposed to hurt, he remembered.

He was almost there, almost at the grounding station where Elizabeth and Rodney had been held captive by Kolya. His mind raced when he realized the people here moved at the same pace as the people he passed in the hallway. They should have been hurrying, scrambling, to make sure Elizabeth was okay, and to get her to the infirmary. That is what they should have been doing. His confusion soon turned to anger at their incompetence. John was not usually an angry sort of man, so this emotion surprised him.

John finally made it to the grounding station. He emerged onto the balcony where the control panel was for the grounding wire, now safely protecting the city from the lightning and the storm. _How could they attend to that before Elizabeth?_, John's anger grew as simultaneously, something else grew in his gut: a feeling. As soon as he had stepped outside, the hard rain had pounded on him, soaking him, but he did not care then. After a moment, he was aware of the cold feeling it left him with.

There was no one else out on the balcony, he realized. They had all gone inside. _Was the rain too painful for them to endure?_, John thought sarcastically. He was relieved, though, as since there was no staff out here, Elizabeth must have already been taken somewhere safe and they were taking care of her. His anger disappeared then, and he felt foolish for thinking poorly of those under his command, people who cared for Elizabeth as their leader and wanted no harm to come to her. He knew this, but still felt he should have been here with her while Kolya and his men controlled the city. He would have kept her safe, he told himself.

Not wanting to waste any more time somewhere Elizabeth wasn't, John began to turn around and jog back the way he had come, not having the energy to run anymore. He skidded to a halt in a moment, shock overtaking him as his eyes searched what he had just noticed once again, affirming him of their suspicions. To the right of him on the far side of the balcony, right next to the railing, was a black mound. The rain bounced off the thick material but left it shining in the raindrops' wake. His military training and experience told his brain what the item was, but all that experience could not prevent John from breaking inside. There was only one thing that could be, and only one person who this could be, he knew, though he did not want to believe it. John slowly walked over to the black cover, the urgency that moved his feet minutes ago no longer felt. His gut filled with dread and darkness like the cover his grief was the source of.

He could not touch it. He wanted so desperately to undo the zipper and pull back the cover, to know for sure, but he also did not know how to continue his life if his worst fear was confirmed. He had been alone in dark situations many times over his life but this was different. He was not used to it anymore. There were plenty of dark times for the expedition since coming to Atlantis – the city almost losing power and drowning them, worrying about power constraints thereafter, the constant fighting with the Wraith – but he was not alone then, none of them were, but he especially wasn't. He had a friend like no other, the best friend he'd ever had. No one could lay claim to her friendship like he could, and that thought pleased him. He had not considered it until now: how he could go on without her.

He prayed, pleaded, to any god he knew of that it wasn't her encased in this black shroud, beaten by rain and treated so unjustly. He imagined that it was Kolya; he liked that. John imagined that Elizabeth had tricked him into a conversation and when he was not paying full attention, she had grabbed his gun and shot him with all the ammo left in the machine. And here he was, lying on the edge of a cold balcony in the rain, the proof of her handiwork. John wanted to smile at the thought; his Elizabeth could be brave like that. She would have done it had she had the chance. She could do so many things.

John wasn't aware of how much time had passed since he'd first reached the grounding station. He was beginning to shiver from the cold and the rain, which still splattered down on the city, despite the protection from the greater storm. He had to know, one way or the other. He could not continue living without knowing the answer, but he also was not sure what kind of life his would be from then on.

Snapping his mind back into military mode, he deftly undid the zipper, as he did so feeling the thickness of the black material under his fingers. He paused for a moment more before he completed the last step, pulling away the top of the bag. He did so gently, as if its occupant were asleep. He allowed himself just enough room to peek underneath the heavy cover, to see a face. He felt his heart sink as if it were the city of Atlantis itself, sinking and sinking until it was immersed in nothingness, without feeling. His whole body became painful; the weight of this knowledge was too great. Not cautious anymore, he threw back the black material all the way. Her body was just lying there, perfectly still and white.

John did not know if he shed any tears over her death as the rain was too strong. But all thoughts of the storm raging outside the shield faded away as he felt the storm within; it felt like every bone breaking, every nerve protesting, and every blood cell freezing. He was breaking, but he could not tear his eyes from her still form. He watched the rain hit her face and body once again, not making much difference to her appearance. Her pale skin was blotchy and red in some areas and John saw a bruise forming on her left cheek and cuts on her neck and face. He looked down and saw that her hands were stained red and her wrists peeking out from her jacket were marked with defensive wounds. Her jacket was undone and her typical red t-shirt showed through the middle. There was a dark red mark on it, a deeper red than the shirt's natural colour, over her stomach and chest. Gingerly, he reached his hand out and touched it. It was still wet. Not wet from the rain, it was a sticky sort of wet.

John's eyes traveled back up to her face. He ached to see her once again. She did not look familiar to him like this. Her skin too pale, the contours of her face too drawn, and her expression too sad: her brow furrowed, her lips tight. Her eyes were closed but he knew they would not be as green as he remembered. He gently ran his finger over her bruised cheek and was surprised when a red line appeared in his wake. He felt his face scrunch up as he realized what it was and what it meant and the next thing he felt was his forehead hitting the cold stone of the balcony as he crumpled up beside her, a hand reaching out to clutch the material of her jacket, content to let the rain pin him there forever.

Eventually, after an eternity, he felt rushed hands pulling him upwards and then placing him on a gurney, which felt softer than it should have. He felt things as a whole, like his body was a stone, the individual parts of it having lost independence. His eyes were closed but he could hear their worried chatter around him. He recognized Carson's voice among the crowd, saying something about shock and hypothermia. John's right eye peeked open to where he had lain moments ago, but she was gone. The black bag containing her was placed on another gurney and wheeled away, slowly. The two young men who wheeled it had blank expressions, but sadness crept into them.

John closed his eye, remaining awake in his fuzzy but conscious state. He imagined his consciousness would be fuzzy for some time now.


End file.
